


Blake and Avon Crack Sex Compilation

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Every flavor of crack, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Oodles of sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 11,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've compiled a LOT of Blake/Avon crack nookie ficlettes here. They vary a lot. They were written for the porn a day challenge of International Month of Porn (2008-2011).</p><p>While none of it is serious, some of it may seem triggery, so I opted for Choose Not to Warn.</p><p>I think Chapter 7 is my favorite. :^)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Elect to Agree (Imop 2008)

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"You must be joking." Avon refused to catch the pile of animal pelts that Blake thrust at him. He stood back and let it hit the dirt floor.

Blake didn't reply immediately. He was stripping, right down to the skin. "As alien sex rituals go, this one isn't so bad." Blake stretched, scratched his belly and fondled himself. "Come on, get kitted up."

"It's ugly," Avon protested. "And it smells."

"Put it on, Avon," Blake said in a no-nonsense tone.

Avon scowled. "Couldn't they just draw stones? Or straws, straws are good."

Blake put on his own costume. It was made out of gray animal pelts, too, but that was about all it had in common with Avon's. "Get kitted up. I won't ask you again."

Avon showed his teeth, but finally relented. "The ears are ridiculous."

"Mine are worse." Blake grabbed Avon the moment he was costumed and pushed him out of the door and into the arena.

Bright lights, blindingly bright, and hot, shone on them. Tiers and tiers of ultra-modern seats, gleaming white and chrome surrounded them in the stadium. A cheer rose. At first it was garbled, but in a few moments it settled down into two opposing chants of "RED FANT" and "BLUE KEY".

Blake waved his trunk, and the crowd went wild, the 'Red Fant' contingent screaming and waving banners. Blake gave Avon a level-eyed look which somehow was all the more sexy for being framed by flapping grey ears the size of dinner plates.

"Oh, what the hell." Avon switched his hips, letting the frayed ropelike thing hanging from his hips sway. "BLUE KEY" cheered him on. He grinned suddenly, and grappled with Blake.

They went down together in the soft, hot sand, Blake laughing and pulling at Avon's long, furry gray ears. The crowd cheered them indiscriminately. At first it looked as if Blake was going to win by using his weight to pin Avon down, but Avon kept squirming and groping until he found a weak spot and ruthlessly teased it.

Everyone usually went for Blake's cock, but when Avon yanked off the costume's foot and sucked on his big toe, Blake groaned and totally surrendered. There was a moment of stunned silence as Avon wrestled Blake into position and began fucking him wildly.

Then the entire stadium erupted into screams of 'Bluekeybluekeybluky!" and people climbed out of the stands and jumped into the arena to join in the vast orgy of indiscriminate love-making, reds and blues clinging to each other and laughing for joy.


	2. Avon feels shirty  (Imop 2008)

Avon picked up Blake's shirt from the medical unit floor, and stalked off with it, scowling. 

Blake smiled slightly. "Always fastidious." He picked up a healing pad and began running it over his bruised ribs.

"Not always, Blake," Avon muttered to himself as he took to the shirt to his cabin. He laid it down on his bed and stripped before lying on top of it, burying his face in the folds still warm from Blake's body, still smelling of Blake's sweat, and blood, and that cologne Jenna had given him. 

He wrapped the flopped sleeves around his hands and used them to tease himself. The fabric was thick and soft, yet strong. Avon moaned and pumped himself, coarse cloth catching coarse hair, tugging and hurting just that least, tiniest bit.

He held off as long as he could, but eventually he shuddered and jerked, coming silently in hot spurts, caught and sucked up by the hungry cloth. Once his breathing had steadied, Avon got up and showered without glancing at the crumpled shirt. He returned and combed his hair into order and arranged the folds of his tunic just so before he picked up Blake's shirt.

He bared his teeth. "I don't need this. I don't need you." He thrust it into the disposal chute and strode out of his room, colliding with Blake.

"Oof." Blake grabbed Avon for balance. "What did you do with my shirt?"

Avon flushed. "I threw it out. It was all bloody."

Blake smiled. "You really shouldn't be so squeamish. A little blood never hurt anyone." Blake turned and left.

Avon sighed. "Yes, it does," he said softly.


	3. Intolerable Behavior  (Imop 2008)

"You have to do it," Vila said to Blake, glaring at Avon who was sleeping on his bunk on the London. "It's him or us, you know it is. And you drew the short straw."

Blake sighed and ran his hand through his hair, and then bit on a knuckle. "That makes me no better than the Federation."

"If you don't do it, Arco will. And he's got a knife."

"All right, I'll do it. Just... keep the others away, Vila."

"Of course I will! No one wants to be a witness." Vila patted Blake on the shoulder. "It's your first time, isn't it? I know it's hard, but you can do it. Remember, we're all counting on you."

Blake went over to Avon's bunk and stood over the sleeping man until his presence woke Avon. "What do you want?" Avon was as hostile as ever.

Blake sighed. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Not if I can help it. Do you really believe that fairy story about me changing the log? You know it's absurd."

"Oh, that. No, it's nothing like that." Blake sat on Avon's bunk. "I'm here to rape you."

Avon blinked. "I didn't think you were that long in prison. Are you really that hard up? Jenna looks amenable to you."

"No, no," Blake said, laughing. "The men asked me to do it. Avon, you need a good fucking."

"What? Do you think that will put me in my place?"

"No, I think it'll make you stop snoring." Blake pushed Avon face down in the covers. "At least for a little while. People have to sleep, you know."


	4. The Day they ran out of Clichés  (Imop 2008)

"Well, I'm not freezing, we're not stuck in a cave, and no aliens are requiring us to act as a bonded couple."

"That's right," Blake said, arms folded and gaze fixed on a distant point. "Also, neither of us is drunk, drugged or suffering from mental imbalance."

Avon let the last go without a sharp comment. "No sex pollen."

"Not a trace of it." Blake spread his arms across the flight deck couch. "We haven't got an excuse for sex. Not one."

"I'm not secretly an alien being that requires it in order to survive?"

Blake smiled and shook his head slowly. He spread his legs casually. "No, you're not."

Avon looked disgruntled, then he looked down at the instrument panel. "We're entering an uncharted area of space! Who knows what it could do!"

"It could not force you to suddenly discover how poetic it would be to have sex with me."

"It couldn't?"

"No."

Avon stared at the monitor for a long, long couple of minutes. Finally he sighed. "All right, Blake, you win. I really, really want to get laid."

"Well now," Blake said, getting up and pulling Avon tightly against him. "All you had to do was ask."


	5. Creature Feature  ( Imop 2008)

No one else had wanted to linger in the cavern beneath Dorian's base, but Avon felt he might as well stay long enough to take care of the remains of the creature. It was interesting that it had reverted to human after he shot it.

He leaned down to grasp its arms to drag it to a more convenient corner for covering it with rubble. That should be enough of a burial as he never intended to come back down here again.

The eyes were open and very blue. It had been a handsome young man, with broad shoulders and curly hair. It rather reminded him of Blake. "I wonder what your name was?" he whispered to the corpse. "How long had you been here? Are people still missing you? Still looking for you?"

Avon gave into an impulse and kissed the cold lips. Blake's would have been warm, and have seemed to yield. He touched the hair. Blake's would have been even springier, and have fought against his touch. He stroked the broad chest. Blake's would have been as satin to this marble.

Avon's face hardened as he stepped back and shot the walls until the stone covered the corpse. "You're dead, Blake." He unzipped and grasped his cock, pumping himself until he came joylessly, hissing in anger as he spattered the stones. "Fuck you, you bastard. Don't come back. I don't need you. I don't need your dreams and your lies and your unspoken promises. I don't need you at all." Avon put himself away, felt his face fall into stony lines and turned to leave his dead behind him.


	6. Never AGan   ( Imop 2008)

"What is it?" Blake said shortly.

"It's a door, and it appears to be shut."

Blake opened the door and looked at Avon. "You know, that really isn't a very good password."

"It worked, didn't it?" Avon slipped in under Blake's arm, and looked around. "I thought so. You're in here still thinking about Gan, aren't you?"

"Don't tell me you've come to console me."

Avon's teeth flashed. "On the contrary. I've come so you can console me."

"What?" Blake looked at Avon in sudden surmise. "You don't mean... not you and Gan."

"Yes. I do mean. It was... a matter of convenience for both of us. Neither of us was going to get emotional about it, and so we didn't. But you have deprived me of him, and you. Owe. Me."

"Very well, if I must, I must." Blake started taking off his clothes, while fighting to keep his expression blank. At last his plan had worked.


	7. Bad Moon Rising (from a story I'd never written idea supplied by blakefancier- IMOP 2009)

Avon snarled at Blake and showed his teeth. This wasn't unusual, but the dense fur sprouting along his cheeks was. 

"Ah, Avon. There's depilatory in the bathroom," Blake offered.

"I already used it. Twice." Avon felt at his face. "Damn. It's happened." He closed his eyes and howled in misery.

"Avon! Stop it! You'll have the whole building in here!" Blake clamped his hand over Avon's mouth and was astonished when Avon's howls turned to needy whines and Avon licked Blake's fingers.

Blake backed up. "I thought you said you weren't gay."

"No. I said I wasn't a fairy." Avon began stripping, but his lengthened fingernails kept catching in the fabric. "I'm a werewolf."

"You never were before." Blake couldn't resist reaching out to help Avon undress. He'd noticed that Avon's fingernails and hair weren't the only things lengthening.

Avon mumbled something, while looking away from Blake. Blake stroked the fur on the back of Avon's neck. "Pardon me, I couldn't quite make that out?"

"I said, I wasn't in heat then!"

"Ah." Blake felt his eyebrows rise. "In heat?"

"Well, there's another term for it in males, but it's pretty much the same thing." Avon howled again, miserably. "I need to get laid!" 

Blake clamped his hand over Avon's mouth again. "What happens if you don't get sex?" Then he drew his hand away.

"I revert to a totally animalistic killing machine until I'm exhausted, or killed." Avon's large brown eyes looked at Blake in puppydog appeal. "I know I'm not your type, Blake, but could you..."

Blake looked at Avon in bafflement. "What do you mean, not your type?"

"Jenna said you were in her bed..." Avon's eyes narrowed at Blake's look of revulsion and he growled. "Why, that bitch; that lying, dog-in-the-manger, bitch." He dropped to all fours and his teeth began extending, while his ears lengthened and flattened against his skull.

"No! Bad Avon, bad!" Blake grabbed Avon by the scruff of the neck and tossed him on the bed. "Stay!"

Avon whined and crouched, wagging his as yet furless hindquarters. 

Blake stripped hastily and grabbed the hotel supplied lube. "Lie down! Down, sir, down!"

Avon flattened himself, his arse emerging from the blankets. Blake grinned. "There's a bad moon on the rise." Whistling cheerfully, he prepared himself and Avon, only having to stop a few times to scold Avon for chewing on the duvet. 

"Ah, Avon." Blake looked down at his cock. "I should warn you. I'm big. Very big. So... if it hurts you aren't going to turn around and bite me, are you?"

Avon whined and wriggled his arse.

Blake decided to risk it. He shoved in and discovered to his delight that werewolves can shape-shift _inside_ , too. "That's... fucking incredible."

Avon howled in agreement and humped the sheets. They were making so much noise they didn't hear the com ring, or the manager pound on the door. 

It was only later; much, much, much later, after Blake had fucked the fur off Avon, returning him to human, that Blake had got up with the intention of visiting the loo and spied the folded piece of paper shoved under the door.

He picked it up and sighed. "Avon, we'll have to move. This building has a no pets clause."


	8. Does not Compute (ImOP 2009)

Blake held the sledgehammer over Orac, debating on just the right place to hit for maximum impact, rather like a diamond cutter with his cleaver.

Avon shouted from the entrance to the flight deck, "Are you mad!"

"No. I asked it to make another prediction." Blake sounded totally calm.

"I thought we'd agreed not to do that- not after that business with the System." Avon sidled closer to Blake, warily.

"Yes, well, I thought of a question we _should_ have asked. Would it be good for us to keep Orac?"

"And what did it say?" Avon was almost close enough to pick up the computer and run for it.

Blake brought the hammer down with a crash, and proceeded to turn Orac into a pile of shiny shards. He wiped off his hands and put down the hammer on top of the rubble. "Orac said, 'no'. Trust me, you don't want the details."

Avon looked down at the mess. "I might have been able to reprogram it."

"You spend too much time with computers, Avon." Blake put a finger in his mouth, meditatively.

"Yes, well, they're logical." Avon began edging away.

"They're hard and cold, and they can't suck cock."

Avon stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"

"Orac said a lot of things. Some of it made sense." Blake slid his finger in and out of his mouth while staring at Avon. "You should have asked. I wouldn't have said no."

"Asked what? I have no sexual interest in men!" Now Avon was really alarmed.

"You're queer for me, Avon. And that's fine by me. I find you..."

"What? Valuable? Useful? Convenient?"

"Hot. You are very, very hot." Blake sucked on a few fingers. "Now, as you're a virgin with men, I won't fuck you this time."

"You won't fuck me any time!" Avon's voice rose and he gave up sidling, and ran for the exit.

"Avon!"

Blake's shout made Avon stop dead. "Avon, if you don't come back here I'll know you're a coward."

Avon whirled. "I'm not afraid of you."

"No, you're afraid of yourself."

Avon considered. "You suck me. I tell you I didn't enjoy it, and then you leave me alone."

Blake nodded. He sat down on the flight deck couch, with his legs spread wide. "Come here."

Avon rather thought the one performing fellatio was the submissive—that didn't seem to have entered Blake's head. He obeyed, mind reluctant, but body eager. "This will be the end of it."

Blake nodded again, eyes fastened on Avon's leather covered crotch. "Absolutely." He opened Avon's zipper and jerked his head back. "Your indifference nearly put out my eye."

"A purely physiological response is meaningless."

"Um humm." Blake's mouth was too full for coherent speech.

Avon gasped and grasped Blake's hair. "FUCK."

"Umm hummm." Blake's hands went around to knead Avon's arse while he sucked, licked, nibbled, blew, tongued, hummed and in general drove Avon frantic.

Avon squeaked when Blake fingered his crack, but couldn't do much more in the way of protest because he was coming hard, clutching Blake to his groin with all the strength in his laser-probe fiddling fingers.

After a minute or so, Blake whacked Avon on the arse hard enough to get his attention. Avon released him and staggered to one side, sitting down on the couch with a squeal of damp leather. 

"Well?" Blake asked.

Avon had his head back and his eye closed. "I didn't enjoy that."

"Avon."

Avon opened his eyes. His lips twitched. "I loved it."


	9. Being Relieved  (Imop 2009)

"Are you blind, Avon?" Blake asked irritably after Avon stumbled against him and clung for the third time that day.

Avon turned his hands palms up and muttered, "Not yet, why the hair hasn't even begun to grow."

Blake looked at Avon's hands, catching on immediately. "It probably has, but friction wears it down quickly."

"And since when are you an expert?" Avon sounded quite irritable, too.

Blake rolled his eyes and huffed in exasperation. "Jenna thinks I'm a virgin. I had assumed you knew better." Blake looked at Avon's leather-covered crotch. 

Avon lifted his head. His eyes gleamed with an unholy light. "No, actually, I'd assumed you were a eunuch."

Blake raised his eyebrows. "Do you always infuriate the people you want to fuck?"

"Invariably." Avon pressed himself against Blake.

"Oh, well, in that case far be it for me to upset your routine." Blake grabbed Avon's arse and squeezed hard. "Get your kit off and assume your favorite position."

"Don't I get a kiss?" Avon pouted.

"Oh, for... all right." Blake kissed Avon hard. "Now can we fuck?"

Avon shoved down his trousers and bent over the flight deck couch. "I keep hand crème at my station."

"Do I want to know why?" Blake retrieved the crème, uncapped it, sniffed it, unzipped and began slicking himself.

"No. You don’t. And don't ask Zen, he'll lie."

Blake rather doubted that, but then he didn't really want to know. Avon was a kinky little bugger. He turned his attention to Avon's bottom. At the first touch of his finger, Avon squirmed.

"You don't need to do that. I'm prepared."

Blake paused a moment in thought. His eyes went to Avon's handgun, the one he carried with him on watch. Blake had thought that merely paranoia, but now that he considered the shape of the thing... "Avon... tell me you haven't been using your gun as a dildo."

"It was disconnected from the power source."

Blake sighed. "Pervert."

"Yes."

Blake shrugged and reminded himself he _had_ recruited from a prison ship full of lifers. And Avon did have a very pretty arse. Blake settled into position and began pushing in.

Avon began humming.

Blake paused. "Do you have to do that? It's distracting."

"Sorry. It was Ravel's 'Bolero'."

"You're not conducting." Blake began thrusting.

Avon moaned. "Despot."

"Mouthy little sod." Blake got into his rhythm, breathing faster and feeling much more mellow towards Avon than usual.

"Yes." Avon moaned louder and began rubbing himself against the couch.

Blake grunted and thrust harder. Avon felt good. Sometimes a tight-arsed bastard was just what you wanted.

"Blake! Please!"

Blake really did like to take his time, but... Jenna was coming on watch in a few minutes. He pushed forward harder, ramming Avon against the couch until the little sod stopped complaining and was simply whining and writhing.

Blake came, sighed, and pulled out. Avon turned over and glared at him. "Bring that back here, I wasn't done with it."

Blake growled and grabbed Avon, pumping him hard. Avon yelped, came, and slid down to the deck, looking up at Blake with huge, wounded eyes.

"Blake?"

Blake sighed and ruffled Avon's hair. "Go get cleaned up. I'll tell Jenna I let you go first."

Avon smiled. "You are a better liar than I am." He got up and left the flight deck.

Blake tidied up and began running systems checks. He began whistling Ravel's 'Bolero.'


	10. Coma On, Avon (IMOP 2009)

"Avon is what?" Blake finished wiping the last of the stage blood off his belly and threw on another shirt, marginally cleaner than the last one.

"He's in a coma." Deva flung his hair out of his eyes, irritably. "Or faking. I don't know. All I know is that I got to carry him to the medical unit when your show was over. My back is killing me."

Blake didn't offer to rub it. "And what about his crew?"

"Well, they shouted at me because you weren't there to shout at, and then they shouted at him for a few minutes, and then I think they all went to get drunk. Not a bad idea." Deva opened a bottle.

Blake sighed and stood up. "He's a spoilt brat, and he's sulking."

Deva nodded. "That seemed to be his crew's opinion."

"Oh, all right, I'll take care of it. This is why I left _Liberator_ in the first place. Living with a drama queen is distracting." 

"Then why did you want him back?"

Blake looked at Deva. "I like brunettes."

Deva scowled and poured himself another drink as the door shut behind Blake. 

Blake walked into the medical unit and glanced around until he located Avon, lying pale and pathetic against the white sheets, his eyelashes sooty curves against his cheeks. "You still use too much eyeliner." He picked Avon up and flung him over one shoulder. The doctor looked at Blake. Blake walked out of the medical unit. The doctor shrugged and went back to playing solitaire.

Blake returned to his quarters and dumped Avon on the bed. He looked at Deva. "Are you still here?"

Deva put his feet up on the table. "I've decided I want to watch." He drank some more.

Blake shrugged and began stripping. "Well, then make yourself useful. There's lube and rope in the lavatory."

"I'm not going to ask." Deva put down the glass, and fetched the rope and lube. He peered at Avon. "I can't say I think any more of his dress sense than yours."

Blake scratched his crotch and then began peeling Avon out of his clothing. "He likes studs."

Deva snorted liquor up his nose. "Yes, I could tell that." He pulled up a chair where he had a better view. "He does have a nice arse," he admitted grudgingly when Blake finished peeling off all the leather and assorted bits of metal from Avon.

"Maybe you can have a go after me." 

Deva noticed Avon's blank, unconscious, expression twitch. "Well, I _am_ your second in command, I ought to get some perks." He unzipped and fondled himself, while watching Blake arrange Avon, arse up and legs spread. "Do you want a pillow? I've a nice wedge one I use to elevate my feet."

"Good idea." Blake caught the pillow that Deva tossed him. He plunked it under Avon and adjusted angles to suit him. "The nice thing about fucking an unconscious man is that you don't have to be careful." He settled in place between Avon's legs.

Avon turned his head and looked at Blake. Blake grinned at him. "Welcome home, Avon."


	11. Register for a paddle (iMop 2010)

Avon saw the notice and changed his opinion of Sarkoff. They'd been down on Lindor for a week's holiday (read: Blake being diplomatic and charming whilst the rest of them were bored witless, with the possible exception of Vila, who hadn't any wit to lose in the first place) and Avon had his fill of culture and exposure to ancient soup ladles and plaster statuary of winged people with missing limbs. And he hadn't even been able to invite anyone to his hotel room, as Sarkoff had so kindly arranged for the lot of them to have exclusive use of the top floor. Blake said it was good security, so of course, they were all thrilled. Absolutely. Just the holiday Avon needed, close confinement with Blake's crew and nary a piece of contemporary electronics in sight.

Blake came into the room and glanced over Avon's shoulder at the scrolling message on the comm link. "Avon..." he began as Avon snapped the link off. He was not going to let Blake drag him off to yet another boring arts appreciation moment.

"No time, now, Blake. I have to change." Avon had memorized the location and time, he didn't need any more details. He talcum-powdered himself into his tightest black leathers and was out the door in less than two minutes.

Avon returned half an hour later, seething. _Register for a paddle_. And there he was, handed a stick with a number and invited to bid on antiques! He hated making a fool of himself. And worse, when he waved the damn stick in fury, he wound up buying, of all useless items, a cracked ceramic biscuit jar shaped like a humanoid egg. Rather than cause an intergalactic scene (and worse, have Jenna find out and laugh at him) he paid and took the thing.

He put it down on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, booted feet up while he had a good sulk. He was trying to decide between shooting the egg, blowing it up, and dumping it in space, when he heard the door open. He recognized the footsteps and didn't look up. "Don't say it, Blake."

"Don't say what, Avon?" Blake had come close, and was looming. He loomed well, but Avon was tired of unresolved sexual tension, and just really, really, wanted a good hard fuck. Preferably preceded by a spanking. He didn't think that was too much to ask from life.

"Whatever it was you were going to say before I made a fool of myself attending an antiques auction dressed for recreational masochism." Avon nudged the jar with his boot. "And come back with egg on my face."

Blake chuckled. "Oh, I don't think you look foolish, Avon."

The tone of Blake's voice registered only after Avon was already embarrassingly responding to it in tight, glove-leather trousers. He jerked his head up and looked at Blake. "What... is that!" 

"Well, as long as I was there, it seemed a pity not to buy something at the auction." Blake's wrist snapped, and the flexible rod he was holding whistled through the air. "They didn't have any paddles, but the provenance for this item says it's a genuine replica of an authentic cane used at Eton." He smiled at Avon. "You've never tried to hide what a bad boy you are, have you, Kerr?"

Avon swallowed, and looked from the rod to Blake's eyes. He ducked his head, hiding an entirely inappropriate smile. "No, sir."


	12. Turn Me On (IMOP 2010)

Avon had refused to let anyone help him with his arm after X-Bar. At first Blake was inclined to leave him alone, after all, he was a grown man. But after the third day of Avon going around doing things one-handedly, Blake had revised his opinion. Avon was an overgrown child. Stern discipline was called for.

Blake stood over him until Avon looked up from the gadget he was disassembling, or assembling. Hard to tell. "Avon, you're going to the medical unit."

"Am I?" Avon showed his teeth in an unfriendly gesture.

"You are." Blake simply watched him and waited.

Avon sighed. "All right. Later."

"Now, Avon. You're flushed. I'm afraid you have an infection." Blake laid a hand on the side of Avon's neck and then jerked his fingers back. "Avon! You're burning up!" Blake stared at his fingers in disbelief, blisters rising. "What? That isn't possible!"

Avon got to his feet and backed away from Blake, silent, one arm hanging oddly limp. 

"What are you?" Blake asked softly. 

Avon looked at Blake for a moment. "It doesn't really matter. As you've noticed, my body is failing. I expect another day of existence, perhaps two."

"Even if you're an alien, the medical unit might be able to help."

Avon smiled and shook his head slowly. "No. I suppose I might as well show you. You'll know soon enough." Awkwardly, he undid his shirt and slid it off, revealing the injured arm. Then he peeled off the red-spotted bandage, revealing a gaping hole, and... wires. "The shot fused my circuitry. It's causing a slow cascade and overloading my power banks."

After gaping, Blake was intrigued. "I am an engineer, you know." He moved closer and examined the damaged arm closely. "I've never seen anything this complex."

"If you have enough money, anything is possible. And Kerr Avon was infinitely wealthy."

Blake looked up at Avon. "Ah, I think I see. You were substituted for him."

"Bribing the guards was apparently not difficult. After all so long as a Kerr Avon went to Cygnus Alpha what difference did it make to them which one? He paid for a perfect copy, right down to his personality and skills."

"MMm, well, if Zen can be crew, I don't see why you can't. Come to the work room. Between the two of us, I'm sure we can take care of your little problem."

After healing his fingers, Blake had to work with heavy gloves, and the handicap of Avon's disparaging remarks, but he soon repaired the damage. "Your temperature should be cycling down, but it would be a good idea to speed the process."

"A cold shower would do." Avon flexed his arm, and then looked at Blake. "Would you care to share it with me?"

"What?" 

"Kerr Avon is bisexual. And..." Avon blinked. "You fall within his parameters of attraction."

"And what about your parameters?"

"You exceed my parameters. Frequently." Avon's eyes were steady on Blake. "In other words, I want you."

Blake had never felt the need of a sex-droid, but Avon... well, Avon was Avon. He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but he watched the steam rise from Avon in his shower, watched, with his mouth gone dry as Avon's erection rose, quite naturally, watched as Avon told him, "It's safe, now, Blake."

And Blake stepped into the shower, as naked and as hard as Avon. Avon kissed him, still warm, but not unpleasantly so. Hands callused and muscular reached for him, pulling him close. Softly, Avon told him, "I am very adaptable, Blake." 

"So I see," Blake said as those clever hands wrapped around his cock. For a moment, he was frightened. This is a machine. It could... but then Avon grinned at him and began pumping him, just right. "Touch me, Blake. Touch me all over."

Blake moaned and got a handful of what certainly felt like a normal cock. It twitched and responded like one. And when Blake squeezed just right, Avon shouted and came, spurting hot against his hand, spatters against Blake's belly, warm weight leaning against Blake just as if Avon's knees came as unstrung as Blake's did a moment later when his own orgasm hit. 

Avon put his arms around Blake and closed his eyes. Softly he said, "Will you keep me?"

Blake stroked Avon's hair. "I have to. I've invalidated your warranty."

Avon opened his eyes and smiled.


	13. It's a Stretch (IMOP 2010)

"I told you these exercises of Cally's were a waste of time."

"No, they're not," Blake replied in an annoyed tone of voice. 

"My back still hurts."

"Here, let me..." Blake adjusted Avon's position. There was an audible snap, and a small noise escaped Avon. "Avon! Are you all right?"

Avon looked up at Blake. "I think you've cured my backache." He grinned and wrapped his legs around Blake's waist. "Maybe yoga isn't such a bad thing after all."


	14. Twist and Shout (IMOP 2010)

Avon looked up at Blake. "I knew I shouldn't have let Vila choose tonight's game."

Vila spun the dial. "Right foot Green!"

Blake grinned down at him and at the green spot just the other side of Avon's hip. "Oh, I don't know. I think Nude Twister has a certain appeal."


	15. Five Times Blake told Avon to Go Back to Your Position... Make that six times... (IMOP 2010)

"Go back to your position!" Blake said firmly.

Avon sulked as he obeyed, pony hooves clumping.

\---------

"Go back to your position!" Blake snapped.

"Well, I would, but it's stuck," Avon said as he wriggled on the Fuckatronic 2000.

\---------

"Go back to your position!" Blake growled.

"I can't! It's impossible to fuck you while I'm in Eagle pose!"

\----------

"Go back to your position!" Blake said with a scowl.

"I'm tired of playing dummy. I know much more interesting ways to pass the time." Avon knocked over the bridge table and lunged at Blake.

\----------

"Go back to your position!" Blake said angrily.

"Mmm mmm," Avon said, unable to shake his head no without circumsizing Blake.

 

Blake knew better than to prod alien technology, but in trying to stay out of Avon's way in the limited space available on the derelict ship he backed up and bumped something with his elbow. He barely had time to realize this was a mistake before Avon shouted, "Blake!" and rammed into his shoulder, knocking him out of the path of the sparkling blue light that engulfed Avon. Avon screamed and fell to the deck, convulsing as his clothing dissolved and his body seemed to melt.

"AVON!" Blake shouted and scrambled back in time to see Avon transform into... well, a cross between a panther and a human. But he could still recognize Avon in the glare and the hiss of fury was also familiar. "Avon! Calm down, we'll find a way to turn you back to normal!"

As usual, Avon didn't listen. He lunged at Blake, slashing with his claws, and tripping him. Blake fell heavily on his back, trying to fend off Avon's fangs. A rough tongue rasped across his mouth. Avon's golden eyes dazzled him with their glitter. There was a loud ripping sound. Blake felt a breeze over his crotch just before a softly leathered paw-palm wrapped around his cock and began pumping.

Blake's big rebel responded immediately, assuming action status. Yowling, Avon straddled Blake, squirming frantically but not achieving his aim. "AVON! Back to your position!"

Avon spat, but got off Blake and posed on hands and knees, back arched. 

"You're going to kill me for this later, aren't you?"

Avon growled and wriggled.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." Blake got the lube he carried in his trousers (life with Avon has taught him to be prepared), slicked himself up, and proceeded to make Avon purr.


	16. Learned your lesson  (IMOP 2010)

Blake looked at Avon, sprawled naked across the flight deck couch, all but one part of him looking totally relaxed. "Ah, Avon, I'm sorry, but I'd forgot..."

Avon bolted upright. "The mind-wipe. Of course. Don't worry, Blake." Avon ran off the flight deck. "I'll be right back." 

Blake blinked and sat down, bemused.

Avon was back in less than a minute, waving a banana. Blake blinked again. "Er, Avon, I'm sorry, but..."

"No, no, that's all right. I don't mind. Just watch closely." Avon opened a condom packet and smoothed it on over the banana. "That's simple enough, isn't it?"

"Yes, Avon, but..."

"Now I don't expect you to be good at this, your first time. Just watch me." Avon opened his mouth, tilted his head back, and proceeded to deep-throat the banana. 

Blake blinked again. "Ah. Avon..."

Avon slowly removed the banana, with a last, lascivious slurp and lowered his head. 

Jenna and Cally were standing behind the flight deck couch, staring at him. Avon stared back at them.

"As I was trying to tell you, Avon, Jenna and Cally switched watches with us."

Avon closed his eyes. "Kill me now."

Blake grinned and took the banana from Avon. "I think I've got the hang of it. Let's go to my cabin and practice."

After Avon and Blake left, Jenna held out her hand. Cally took it and kissed her. _Now, all we need to do is get Gan and Vila together._. Jenna rolled her eyes. "You're such a yenta, Cally."


	17. Passing Inspection  (IMOP 2010)

Avon stood in front of Blake, glaring, robe held tightly closed about himself, arms crossed over it in wordless emphasis.

Blake scratched his own naked belly and glared back. "Look, we agreed to do this."

"You agreed!"

"Cally's right, it's a necessary health measure, and we should do it regularly."

"I can damn well take care of myself!"

"Are you afraid?"

Avon showed his teeth at that. "No. I just..." Blake kept looking at him. "Fine!" Avon pulled off the robe and tossed it in the corner. 

Blake looked Avon over thoroughly. "Turn around."

Unwillingly, Avon obeyed. Blake stood behind him a long time. "Spread your legs, Avon."

Gritting his teeth, Avon did as instructed. He felt Blake's hand moving along the crease of his left buttock, lifting it. After a tense moment, Blake sighed. "It looks good. Small, brown, and round."

Avon turned to face Blake. "I don't know why we couldn't just do the mole check while we have sex."

Blake chuckled. "We get too distracted. Now, you do me."

Avon grumbled, "All right, but I deserve to be on the bottom next time as a reward."


	18. With the Other Hand  (IMOP 2010)

What, again?" Avon threw down his laser probe and scowled up at Blake. 

"Flashback," Blake gritted out as his hands convulsively tightened on the console above Avon. "I can't..." His face twisted in silent agony.

"Fuck!" Avon skidded out from the console between Blake's legs, reaching up to unzip Blake's trousers. "You're not there. You're here on Liberator, with me." Blake's soft cock responded to Avon's hands and mouth. "With me, Blake. Stay with me."

Blake shuddered. His grip tightened and loosened, tightened and loosened as Avon sucked and stroked him. He came with a cry more like pain than release, and stood, head hanging low as he breathed in great gasps. 

Avon tucked Blake back away, and looked up into Blake's face, at the closed eyes and tight lines around them. Then he picked up the laser probe and scooted back into position under the console. He began working again, listening to Blake's breathing even.

Blake said, "How long is it going to take Avon? We need that system back on line."

"Yes, I know," Avon snapped, "I have to do everything around here. What would you do without me?"

Blake made a soft noise of amusement. "Oh, I expect I'd muddle along somehow. I'm going to check on the engines."

Avon pulled back out of the console and watched Blake leave.


	19. You Can Run, But You Can't Hide (IMOP 2010)

The dogs howled in the distance. Avon whirled and nearly took Blake down with him. Blake set his feet and pulled against the manacle chaining them. "It's no good, Avon, we can't..."

"The hell we can't. I'm not going back to the slave-pits."

"Avon. We can't run any longer." 

Avon turned back to snarl in Blake's face, but after a long moment his expression went blank. "I know."

Blake kissed him. Filthy, stinking, bone-thin and scarred, Blake kissed him and Avon was hard in moments. 

"So this is your plan?"

"Have you got a better one?"

"No, I was just wondering." Since they were nearly naked to begin, it took no time at all before they were rubbing against each other, moaning and feeling no pain, no fear, no worry. Nothing but yes and good and love even though they never ever said that.

The howling was louder, but they didn't care, didn't listen. 

And then the ground fell out from under them. "FUCK!" Avon shouted as he fell onto something soft and Blake fell onto him like something hard. Avon lay there wheezing while lights came up around them, and a mechanical whirring came from above as something slid closed shutting out the glaring yellow white sun and the howling.

Blake looked around. He whispered, "It's an alien ship."

Avon let his head bang several times against the couch he was lying on. "Does this mean we're starting all over again?"

Blake grinned at him. "Avon. I have a plan."

Avon whimpered.


	20. Stars in Alignment  (IMOP 2011)

"Orac has intercepted a message from Space Command Headquarters."

From the flight deck couch, Blake gazed up at Avon calmly. "Has he now."

Avon bared his teeth and paced, hands held tightly together behind his back. "Of course, you already know the contents."

"Perhaps. Why don't you tell me." Blake idly worried at a forefinger.

Avon jerked his head in response to Blake's unconcern. "Star One is malfunctioning. Do you know what that means?"

"Oh, yes, I think I do. Weather control, space traffic, uncounted other automated systems will be going wrong." There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes. "The Federation will be vulnerable."

"No. That's not what it means at all." Avon knocked Blake flat on the couch. "It means we only have time for a quickie!" Avon yanked Blake's zip open and sucked him down.

Blake put his hands in Avon's hair and moaned softly. "Did Orac mention the invading alien fleet?"

Avon stopped what he was doing and looked up. "No, that was omitted."

"So we really must make the time count." Blake twirled a finger.

Avon got the message, unzipped and arranged himself so they could 69.

On the flight deck couch, Orac watched, and then decided, what the hell, he'd interface with Star One.


	21. Blind Bid (IMOP 2011)

"Going, going, gone." And the gavel crashed down with the sound of Federation blasters. Avon sat up, gasping in the dark, clutching at the fleeting memory of the dream. A hard hand clutched his shoulder and dragged him back down again to whatever he was lying on. He couldn't tell what it was, or where he was. He opened his mouth to ask something, he wasn't sure what, and the hard hand was now over his mouth, pressing down as if in warning, not quite hard enough to hurt.

He fumbled his hand along the arm. Male, larger than his own, not overly muscular, but not scrawny either. Braille wasn't Avon's strong suit. Was this someone he knew? Were they prisoners in some Federation dungeon, or perhaps in hiding? In hiding would make more sense. The Federation preferred to keep cells constantly brightly lit, both to make escape more difficult and easier to deprive one of sleep. And if there was a need for silence...Avon nodded against the hand until it relaxed and moved away.

He lay still for a moment, listening, but there was nothing. Nothing... at all. Shouldn't he be able to hear his own breathing at least? He brought his hand to his ear and rubbed it. Nothing. Oh. 

And was it... really dark? He blinked rapidly, and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his hand across them. but not even the false glitter of phosphene appeared. Blind and deaf. And.. he couldn't even remember how it happened. It really seemed that now would be an excellent moment to panic.

But just then a warm body moved on top of his, and a mouth settled over his, with a sureness that made Avon feel even more frantic. Whoever was with him could see. Could see how vulnerable he was. Avon struggled to get away, but then the big hands grasped his and pulled his hands up. Oh. Avon carded his fingers through a tangle of curls.

Tarrant? No. Tarrant's arms weren't that broad. His lips shaped the name, 'Blake'? A hand moved to his chin and moved it up and down in a nod. He had so many questions, but he couldn't ask any of them. Blake must have had some reason for imposing silence on him. And then Blake kissed him. Really kissed him.

Avon jerked his head aside and began fighting. All the time Blake had ignored him, now, now he was suddenly irresistible? Give the poor cripple a pity fuck? The big hands came back and this time slapped him across the face. Avon bared his teeth and lay still. His hand was taken and pulled up to the curls and then back down across the forehead, pausing to go back and forth. Scars... Blake's eye? One or both? Avon reached to feel the other side, to run his hands over Blake's cheeks and throat and then down over his shoulders. Which were shaking. Hesitantly, Avon felt Blake's face again. The cheeks were wet. Blake... was crying? But he never.

It was awkward, but Avon sat up and found Blake's mouth with his own. He closed his eyes. Blake put his arms around and held him. The kiss tasted of tears, salty and sweet. This time he let Blake push him down, let Blake caress and kiss him. What did it matter who pitied whom? They both needed this, needed each other. Arousal began, warm and slow, following Blake's path across his body, building into a cleansing fire. It felt better than good, it felt right, as necessary as breathing, as inevitable as... well, really, he was not in the mood for poetic metaphors.

He needed to fuck, or to be fucked, which would be the more sensible option considering that he never was any good at Blind Man's Bluff. He tried to get Blake to understand this, and stop sucking on his cock for a moment. It was good, damn good, though. And better when Blake wrapped a slippery hand around him and pumped him. Where did he get--- oh, who cared. Avon panted soundlessly and arched into Blake's hand.

Then the hand vanished. Bastard! Avon reached out and found Blake climbing on top and oh, yes, oh, damn, Blake was hot and tight around him and moving and all Avon had to do was hold on and not go completely insane as Blake's hands clutched his arms tightly and Blake's arse held him so sweetly and...

"AH! Blake!" Avon shouted and arched up, silver sparkling explosions filling his vision. He slumped back, blinking up at the bulkhead of an unfamiliar ship and then looked down, focussing on Blake's sweaty, grinning face. Then he looked lower. Blake had come, too, which was a salve to his pride.

"Do you remember?" Blake asked. "Servalan had... bought you, had you drugged and programmed."

Avon frowned. "I... recall bits and pieces. She... wanted to amuse herself."

"She'll amuse herself in hell, now." Blake stroked Avon's cheek. "Orac called me back. And told me what you needed to recover."

"Ah." Avon looked away. "So, this was strictly medicinal."

Blake laughed. "It didn't have to be me, Avon. Any of your crew would have been glad to help. I claimed the right."

Avon looked back at Blake. "What right?"

"I left because we were no good for each other. I came back because I was wrong. We need each other, Avon."

Avon looked at Blake's scarred face. "Yes. I rather think we do. Welcome home, Blake."


	22. The Inner Man (IMOP 2011)

Blake found the halo a bloody nuisance, shining in his eyes as he looked down to the planet below. He reached up and tilted it back. "That's better." He sat on the edge of a cloud, wings spread wide for balance. He still wasn't sure about this flying business and he'd rather not fall off and make himself look ridiculous. More ridiculous.

It was all right for Gan, he struck quite a figure in flowing robes. And Jenna loved flying. Cally seemed to enjoy meditating in mid-air... and he wasn't quite sure what Zen felt about it except that he'd shrugged his golden brown wings and gone for a tour of heaven.

Which Blake didn't believe in, and so it was doubly embarrassing to be here. He sharpened his gaze and returned to watching. He was fairly sure he wasn't supposed to interfere without orders from... whoever... but that wasn't what prevented him from trying to rescue Avon and his people from the debacle on Gauda. He just couldn't get the hang of materializing or appearing or whatever trick there was to solidifying. He'd sat through several of the interrogations, trying to help, or at least encourage, but he couldn't get through to any of them.

Irritably, Blake kicked a chunk of cloud loose. It struck another and tiny sparkles of lightning formed before the cloudlet vanished. Blake's eyes narrowed in thought. Well, if all he had to work with was clouds... he got up and began rounding up Heaven's Rebels, starting with Kasabi. 

Blake flew down to the remnants of his base after the storm had torn it apart. He landed lightly and looked around in satisfaction. Jenna had piloted the lightning with precision. Smoking Federation troopers were black lumps among the rubble while stunned rebels wandered about, dazed. Avon was being his usual bitchy self, ordering people about with such authority that no one had yet realized he wasn't actually in charge.

Klyn landed next to Blake. "What's he up to now?" She frowned. "You'd think he'd at least have sense enough to leave...oh."

Avon shifted a piece of column, revealing Blake's body.

"That's disturbing," Klyn said. "I hope they don't find me."

Avon sank to his knees and just stared at the corpse. 

Blake said something softly that was probably not allowed in heaven. Then he strode over to Avon, wings shaking with fury. "You do not have the option to quit, Avon! Get up! Fight back!" Several feathers drifted loose. One landed on Blake's body.

Avon reached out and picked up the feather, turning it over slowly in his hand.

"You can see that? You can touch it? Why the hell can't you see me!" Blake growled.

"Man is defined as a featherless biped."

Blake glanced at Zen who had appeared out of nowhere. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Knowledge cannot be..."

Blake rolled his eyes. "Right. Figure it out for myself." Blake looked thoughtful for a moment and then began beating his wings with all the fury and and everything else he felt for Avon in his heart. Feathers flew like snowfall, while the rebels gasped in surprise.

It hurt. It hurt the way living did, the way he hadn't felt since entering heaven. He felt the feathers tear loose, felt himself bleeding without blood, tearing apart, soul separating from unsolid flesh, and being drawn down, down, back into body, back into flesh, warm and soft and hard and cold and alive, alive, alive, oh.

"Avon," Blake said. His voice sounded odd. He looked down and saw... his corpse, still and bloody. He looked down at his hands, bloody and encased in black leather. "Oh, hell." He closed his eyes.

"Blake," Avon said, softly, still holding a shining white feather. "Are... you in here?"

_Be quiet, Avon,_ Blake thought. _Do you want them to think you mad?_

_Probably not._ Avon stood up. "Prepare Blake's body for burial. We need to leave the base before the Federation sends reinforcements." Avon strode out of the tracking gallery. _What now?_

_Well, once we're alone, I can think of a few things._ Blake reached down to stroke Avon's thigh as he walked.

Avon made a mildly undignified squeak. _You always were a kinky bastard._

Blake laughed and settled down in the warmth and brightness he'd always known was inside Avon.


	23. Feeding a Sick Appetite (IMOP 2011)

There are quite a few sick puppies in the Federation Interrogator's Guild, or the Psycho Duel wouldn't be such a popular method of execution. To the uninitiated observer, it looked like a fairly ordinary gladiatorial combat, where the victor would be promised exile, if he survived. If. The suicide rate among victors tended to make exile superfluous.

Carnell may have been in self-imposed exile, but he'd kept his hand in by projecting Blake and Avon's likely futures. He'd been agreeably pleased to have them both captured on schedule, after a no-doubt angst and trauma-filled reunion. Blake had been injured, of course, so Carnell had plenty of time to lay his plans to attend the event while Blake was nursed back to health for his execution. Servalan had been easily manipulated into ordering the Duel, importing psychostrategists and their equipment. It had taken a bit more finesse to make her order all the rebels kept alive as an audience, but that was a vital part of the plan.

He logged in to the security feed and settled back with a glass of wine.

Servalan lounged on the judge's dias, surrounded by troopers, smiling genially at the shackled and disheveled group of rebels on the lower level. On the very lowest level of the arena in what had been Blake's base, Blake and Avon were straining to reach each other, teeth bared and eyes wild. They were naked, to ensure neither of them had any hidden weapons. Of course that was the reason. Servalan's glossy red lips curved in a bright smile. "Let the combat begin!"

The ropes binding them dropped away and the two men raced at each other, hands grasping, mouths biting. 

Servalan leaned forward, intent on the action. Beside her, one of the puppeteers began droning on about conditioning each man to think he was starving and that his opponent wasn't human, but the very food he liked best.

Blake toppled Avon to the floor and covered him with his body, moving remarkably fast for a man who'd nearly died a few weeks ago. Beneath him, Avon writhed and fought to get his hands and mouth on Blake. 

Something Avon did made Blake bellow and arch far enough away for Avon to overturn Blake, flinging himself on top, clutching and running his mouth over Blake's body and... oh. Well, that is the most vulnerable place on a man. Servalan sat on the edge of her seat, breathing heavily as Avon bit at Blake's balls. Blake shouted again, and reached down to drag Avon up and then pushed Avon onto his belly, rolling over to pin him down. Blake's mouth went to Avon's nape, biting. His big hands pushed Avon down and held him. And...well... _that_ was unexpected. Servalan didn't spare a glance for the puppeteer now babbling about food fetishes and not to worry, once Blake had satisfied that appetite, he'd certainly eat Avon.

Servalan rather thought he would, but she wasn't at all sure Avon would die of it. Blake stayed on top of Avon for quite a while before he _died_. Whereupon Avon summoned the strength to push Blake off and straddle him, hands reaching to Blake's throat. Well, that was more like it. And then the stupid bastard kissed Blake.

"This is a farce!" Servalan rose to her feet, ignoring the damp patch in the crotch of her silken gown. "Kill those two men!"

"Erm," Vila said, dangling a set of opened shackles from his hand. "If it's all the same to you, we'd rather not."

The troopers raised their visors and grinned scruffy bearded rebel grins at her, except for the ones who grinned feral female grins. Servalan whirled, looking for help, only to find Dayna beside her, with a whisper-thin knife in her hand. Which suddenly was sticking out of Servalan's gown. _That's going to stain_ was Servalan's last thought.

Carnell had timed it perfectly, draining the last drops of wine in salute to Servalan. He meandered down to the arena. "Hello, Deva."

"Hello, yourself," Deva snapped. "You could have shown up sooner!" He threw his arms around Carnell. "I've missed you, brother."

Carnell patted Deva on the back. "I know, I kept meaning to write, but one gets busy, saving the universe, overthrowing corrupt regimes, all that sort of thing." He waved at the cringing puppeteer. "You can go now, Clyde, payment in the usual place." The puppeteer scuttled off.

Soolin leaned over the railing to the arena, watching Blake and Avon who were at it again. "What do they think they're doing?"

Carnell glanced at Soolin and smiled. She was just as sexy and beautiful as Servalan, but quite a bit saner. He disentangled himself from Deva and moved closer to her. She gave him a knowing look. "Well, pretty much what they're doing. Only Blake thinks he's got the largest, finest, bar of dark chocolate in the universe... and Avon... well, he's... nuts about pecans."


	24. Crumbs in the Sheets (IMOP 2011)

Blake had lost weight. It made Avon uncomfortable. Recovery from Avon's ...mistake... had been long and painful. While Blake could finally eat normally, he seemed to have lost the habit. He'd push food around on his plate, taking a bite if someone was looking, and then he'd be out of the room leaving most of it. They tried tempting him with old-fashioned fry-ups, exotic fruits, and barbecued beasts to no avail. Blake was wasting away before their eyes.

Finally Avon had enough. The situation called for drastic measures. Vila lured the rebels on cooking duty away for drinks. Dayna and Soolin blocked access to the food preparation area by practising knife-throwing in the corridor before it. Tarrant charmed anyone who hadn't been enticed or frightened away. And Avon, grim-faced, plonked Orac down on a table and extracted the needed information under extreme duress (it's amazing what a potato peeler can do to wiring.)

An hour later, Avon emerged, lines of exhaustion etched deeply around his eyes, and a large box held in his arms. He nodded to his crew. "Take Orac back to the computer room."

Dayna looked at the box. "Do you really think this will work?" Soolin and Tarrant also looked dubious.

"It must." Avon strode off, without a backwards look.

Blake was in his room, working at his desk, when Avon leaned on the announcer. "It's Avon. Let me in."

Blake opened the door and stood there, frowning, when Avon pushed past him and set the box on his desk, brushing aside data cubes and pads. "What's this in aid of, Avon?"

"You. And me." Avon took the cover off the box, and a previously faint aroma rose strongly, enticingly. "I caused your... problem. I intend to cure it."

Blake raised his eyebrows. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You aren't eating."

"I'm not hungry." Blake looked annoyed. "I'm quite capable of looking after myself, you know."

"Are you?" Avon said softly. He moved closer to Blake, almost close enough to touch. "Totally self-sufficient?"

"You know I am."

"That's a pity." Avon reached into the box and extracted something brown and gooey. He took a small bite. "Friends share."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "That can't be..."

"Oh, but it is. Orac hacked the archive files. This is as near as you'll get to a genuine Dome Scout Samoa. Delicious. But messy." Caramel and chocolate was dripping down Avon's hand. Softly he said, "Friends share."

Blake gazed at Avon for a long moment, before grabbing his hand and licking at the drips. "You still taste better."

Avon smiled. "You can have me for dessert. Eat the Samoas, Blake."

Blake took the cookie. The first bite went down slowly, possibly the fact that Avon was undressing had something to do with that. The second cookie vanished in two bites as Avon stripped off his trousers and stood proud and tall in front of Blake. The third cookie went from hand to hand as Avon stripped Blake's shirt off, smearing sticky fingers over Blake's chest and then licking him clean before continuing to peel Blake down.

By the time Blake had eaten the sixth cookie, they were both spotted and streaked with chocolate and caramel, moaning and licking at each other. "Bed," Blake said, before pushing Avon onto his back. He grabbed a few more Samoas and rubbed them all over Avon's chest and belly and then along the length of his cock- unfortunately the hole in the center of the cookie was too small to fit as a cock ring. "You have always made me hungry, Kerr."

"Eat me. Swallow me whole, Roj." Avon moaned as Blake granted his wish, sucking until Avon came with a yell. 

Blake sat back, swallowing and looking smug. "How good a lube is chocolate, do you think?"

"I don't think." Avon flopped over onto his belly and spread his legs wide. "I don't care, either. Do it, Roj, please."

With his stomach lined with high-calorie fuel, Blake found himself quite able to follow Avon's instructions. He shoved in and held on and pushed and moaned, the smell of sex and Avon and chocolate and caramel surrounding him in a comforting, sexy haze. He didn't last long, but oh, it was good. He pulled out and lay beside Avon. "The bed's a mess," he commented idly.

"Next time, I'll make trefoils." Avon nuzzled into Blake's shoulder.

Blake patted Avon's sticky arse and fell asleep, dreaming sweet dreams.


	25. Warming Up (Imop 2008)

"Come here, Avon."

"No, I can see light, I just need to dig a little more..." Avon scraped at the rock frantically.

"Avon." Blake came up next to him and caught his hand. "The ore is luminescent, you know that."

"I can't stay here, Blake!" Avon's voice teetered on the edge of hysteria.

"Well, it won't be for long. The others have our coordinates and orders to check on us every hour." Blake put a hand on Avon's shoulder. "You're shivering."

"It's bloody cold in here!"

"You never swear." Blake put his arm around Avon. "The others will teleport down once they fail to contact us." Blake shook the remnants of his shattered bracelet from his arm. "Did I remember to thank you for pushing me away from the rockfall?"

"Just add it to what you owe me." Avon's teeth chattered.

"Avon. Come here." Blake wrapped both arms around Avon and pulled him close. "It's not that cold."

Avon tried to push away from Blake. "I'm not having a traumatic reaction to being trapped in a cave, if that's what you're thinking! I just... it's a metabolic condition. I forgot to take my pills."

"Ah. So... that's why the leather?" Blake rubbed Avon's back. "You weren't trying to seduce me?"

"No, not at all." Avon stopped fighting Blake. "It's a matter of survival." Avon slumped against Blake. "I don't think I'll still be here...an hour from now."

"Of course you will." Blake rubbed harder, but Avon was no longer arguing or trying to get away. "Avon! Don't go to sleep!"

"Go... way..." Avon stopped shivering.

"Avon!" Blake was really alarmed now. "AVON!" He shook Avon. "Oh, no!" Blake remembered something... "Avon, you need to increase your metabolism! Come on, walk!" Avon was barely conscious. "Avon... oh, hell." He kissed Avon roughly and got a widening of the eyes. "Emergency measures, Avon! You can hate me for this later, but at least you'll be alive to hate." Blake pulled of his jacket and threw it to the floor. Then he undid Avon's trousers and laid him on top of the jacket. Avon squirmed.

Weakly he said, "No, Blake."

"Yes, Avon." Blake unzipped and stroked himself to readiness, using plenty of spit. "It's the only way."

Avon yelped and clawed at rocks when Blake thrust into him. "Kill you..." he sobbed.

"Later. Yes, Avon." Blake panted and fucked Avon hard. "Friction. Hate. Get hot, Avon. Come on, you can do it." He grabbed Avon's cock, relieved to find it half-hard. "You don't want to die. You need to live so you can kill me." Blake felt slightly guilty to be enjoying not only the physical sensations, but having Avon totally at his mercy for once. "I'm fucking you, Avon. And it feels so good." He bit the back of Avon's neck and was rewarded with a jump and a weak curse. "Fight me. I want to feel you moving around my cock. I want to..." Blake gasped as Avon pushed up to his hands and knees and started moving.

"Hate you," Avon snarled, but he was no longer trying to get away. "Kill you..."

"Yes, Avon, later." Blake felt Avon's body tense, strength and heat coming back to the limbs, and when he finally filled Avon with heat, the hot splash against his arm made him grin. He fell forward onto Avon, and kissed the back of Avon's neck. Softly, he said, "I love you."

Avon turned his head and glared at Blake. "I will kill you for this."

"For raping you? For saving your life? For saying I loved you?"

Avon closed his eyes, but made no attempt to escape Blake's warmth. "Yes."


	26. Warming Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ye Olde Special Snowflake Hypothermia cliché.

"Come here, Avon."

"No, I can see light, I just need to dig a little more..." Avon scraped at the rock frantically.

"Avon." Blake came up next to him and caught his hand. "The ore is luminescent, you know that."

"I can't stay here, Blake!" Avon's voice teetered on the edge of hysteria.

"Well, it won't be for long. The others have our coordinates and orders to check on us every hour." Blake put a hand on Avon's shoulder. "You're shivering."

"It's bloody cold in here!"

"You never swear." Blake put his arm around Avon. "The others will teleport down once they fail to contact us." Blake shook the remnants of his shattered bracelet from his arm. "Did I remember to thank you for pushing me away from the rockfall?"

"Just add it to what you owe me." Avon's teeth chattered.

"Avon. Come here." Blake wrapped both arms around Avon and pulled him close. "It's not that cold."

Avon tried to push away from Blake. "I'm not having a traumatic reaction to being trapped in a cave, if that's what you're thinking! I just... it's a metabolic condition. I forgot to take my pills."

"Ah. So... that's why the leather?" Blake rubbed Avon's back. "You weren't trying to seduce me?"

"No, not at all." Avon stopped fighting Blake. "It's a matter of survival." Avon slumped against Blake. "I don't think I'll still be here...an hour from now."

"Of course you will." Blake rubbed harder, but Avon was no longer arguing or trying to get away. "Avon! Don't go to sleep!"

"Go... way..." Avon stopped shivering.

"Avon!" Blake was really alarmed now. "AVON!" He shook Avon. "Oh, no!" Blake remembered something... "Avon, you need to increase your metabolism! Come on, walk!" Avon was barely conscious. "Avon... oh, hell." He kissed Avon roughly and got a widening of the eyes. "Emergency measures, Avon! You can hate me for this later, but at least you'll be alive to hate." Blake pulled of his jacket and threw it to the floor. Then he undid Avon's trousers and laid him on top of the jacket. Avon squirmed.

Weakly he said, "No, Blake."

"Yes, Avon." Blake unzipped and stroked himself to readiness, using plenty of spit. "It's the only way."

Avon yelped and clawed at rocks when Blake thrust into him. "Kill you..." he sobbed.

"Later. Yes, Avon." Blake panted and fucked Avon hard. "Friction. Hate. Get hot, Avon. Come on, you can do it." He grabbed Avon's cock, relieved to find it half-hard. "You don't want to die. You need to live so you can kill me." Blake felt slightly guilty to be enjoying not only the physical sensations, but having Avon totally at his mercy for once. "I'm fucking you, Avon. And it feels so good." He bit the back of Avon's neck and was rewarded with a jump and a weak curse. "Fight me. I want to feel you moving around my cock. I want to..." Blake gasped as Avon pushed up to his hands and knees and started moving.

"Hate you," Avon snarled, but he was no longer trying to get away. "Kill you..."

"Yes, Avon, later." Blake felt Avon's body tense, strength and heat coming back to the limbs, and when he finally filled Avon with heat, the hot splash against his arm made him grin. He fell forward onto Avon, and kissed the back of Avon's neck. Softly, he said, "I love you."

Avon turned his head and glared at Blake. "I will kill you for this."

"For raping you? For saving your life? For saying I loved you?"

Avon closed his eyes, but made no attempt to escape Blake's warmth. "Yes."


	27. Rites of Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pun ahead. I love puns. Don't diss the puns. :^)

Following the destruction of Star One, Blake and Avon found themselves on a planet trapped in an eternal winter. The elders insisted they perform a fertility rite in order to restore the balance of nature.

After an exceedingly brief show of reluctance, Blake allowed Avon to suck him off. Avon wiped his mouth afterward and pretended to be disgusted. "Well, I'm glad that's over with." He started to get up.

The elders shook their heads. "You must continue! One swallow doesn't make a summer."


	28. Sexy Boots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avon's sexxy boots bring all the rebels to the yard.

It was the boots, really. Blake couldn't compete with them. He'd tried showing his bare chest, he'd tried flaunting his crotch, he'd got pirate sleeves and Robin Hood lacing on his shirts and even tried chain mail embroidery on his shoulders, and STILL all the polls listed Avon as the Most Sexily-Dressed Rebel.

Blake looked down at his own boots. They were brown, blocky and looked like he'd been wearing them to muck out stables. He frowned. To hell with it; popularity wasn't everything; he lifted his head with a jerk, only to meet Avon's guilty stare.

Avon flushed, and his eyelids lowered. Blake thought about it for a few seconds, then casually pointed a finger. "Avon, get kitted up."

Avon looked puzzled. "For what sort of mission?"

Blake fondled his own crotch. "Guess."

A smile slowly spread across Avon's face. "The boots worked!"


	29. Lashings and Lashings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avon holds Blake to his bargain.

"This is not what I had in mind," Blake said, fairly calmly considering that he was tied spread-eagle to the deck of Cargo hold A, with one of Cally's exercise mats between him and the herculaneum.

"We agreed. This was to be a democracy in the bedroom, in return for the dictatorship on the flight deck." Avon fingered the lashes of the glossy black whip he held.

Blake eyed the whip and Avon's glossy black outfit, which had convenient gaps at the nipples and crotch. "Yes, but..." Blake sighed. "All right, I did agree." And besides, his cock liked the idea. Stupid cock, it didn't care about Blake's dignity.

Avon grinned, and trailed the lashes over Blake's face. Blake frowned. It smelled odd. He didn't recognize the scent until Avon struck him across the chest, and bits of lash came off, clinging to his perspiring body. "Liquorice! Avon! No!" Blake squirmed under the relentless lashing, because he knew what would come next.

Avon laughed and continued beating Blake until the soft, sticky bits covered his whole body. Then Avon knelt and began licking Blake clean.

Blake moaned. Avon knew how licking drove him mad."Bastard. You fucking bastard."

Avon grinned and lifted his head, liquorice clinging to his chin and lips. "After I've eaten. Then I'll have you for pudding." He kissed Blake deeply, sharing the liquorice.


End file.
